


Viewing Angles

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [8]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Swing Dancing, Tron vs. Food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 01:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perspective is everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viewing Angles

“Please, Tron? Sam refuses to for some reason, and Alan is busy preparing for his business trip to China.”

 

“I'm aware of that, Quorra; I'm scheduled to accompany him on his trip to translate.”

 

“Oh; I didn't know you understood that language.”

 

“It was the first of a series of language-related compatibility upgrades I received, before. Did Flynn never do the same, in order to allow you to read different file types of User text documents?”

 

“He translated them into English for me; we had the time to spare.”

 

“... Right.”

 

“... Yeah.”

 

“...”

 

“Anyway! If you're just going to translate, you don't need to get ready like Alan does, so you should have time to help me. _Please_?”

 

“... What are the energy requirements?”

 

“Thank you thank you _thank you_! It shouldn't be too much; it looks quite simple in the video files I've seen. This is going to be _great_! I'll get lots of that drink you like – the light blue one, right? I wonder what I should wear...”

 

“I'm going to regret this, aren't I?”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

“Never mind; did Sam say why he refused to assist you?”

 

“Not really; he just gave me a strange look and looped portions of sentences at me.”

 

“... Right. When should I come over?”

 

“As soon as is convenient, please. Oh! Wear User clothes, and bring your gloves!”

 

“Why?”

 

“I'll explain it to you when you get here.”

 

“Fine. I'll be there in 13.7 minutes, plus or minus approximately 3 minutes; it's Sam's laundry day today, so it may take time to find something clean.”

 

“Okay, see you then. And thanks again, Tron.”

 

“You're welcome, Quorra.”

 

* * *

 

Sam checked his messages one more time, before starting the ignition on his bike; he'd received a message from Quorra, perfectly timed with the theoretical end of his shift – it was now almost an hour later – informing him that she'd asked Tron to assist her with something while he was visiting, waiting to go with Alan to Shanghai – and he wasn't _worried_ about what Tron would do about keeping his energy up during the week-long trip, he _wasn't_ – so if he got home and Tron wasn't already there, he knew where to find him.

 

He tucked his phone away, then put on his helmet, and set off out of the massive parking garage. First, he'd stop at a grocery store – he wanted to see if his 'dedicated pair' could stomach one of those meal replacement shakes – then, if he hadn't received word otherwise, he'd pick Tron up; the weather wasn't looking especially friendly tonight, and he had _plans_ that involved nothing more complicated than him, Tron, _The Day the Earth Stood Still_ , and folding laundry.

 

Half an hour later found him emerging from the elevator on Quorra's floor, jacket pockets weighted down with the two flavors he was most hopeful for; Tron's luck with User world foods had been pretty terrible so far – significantly worse than Sam's luck with energy on the Grid, and that was saying something. It was so bad that out of probably over two hundred attempts to eat or drink something, he could only choke down four things, and only two of them he remotely liked.

 

His favorites were a certain flavor of sports drink – it was light blue, and if it'd glowed, would have looked exactly like a popular variety of energy Tron got fairly often; Sam wondered, at times, if the association helped the drink to be more palatable, even though it tasted like chemicals to Sam – and unsweetened chocolate – something about the almost-alkaline _bitterness_ of it translated well to Tron, and it had been a happy, accidental discovery, as well as the first solid food Tron hadn't thrown back up. He'd discovered a tolerance for Cream of Wheat during one of his sleepovers at Alan's house, though, just when his User was about to have a breakdown about being unable to feed him, according to Lora.

 

Tron refused to tell him what the fourth thing was, acting embarrassed and evasive every time he brought it up, which gave Sam the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't something deemed edible by Users, like paint thinner, motor oil, or maybe dog food; he made a mental note to check through the workshop area of his apartment – as soon as he got that other bike fixed he was definitely taking Tron with him to an amateur team racing event, so everyone can eat their dust – as well as Marv's supplies, just in case.

 

Putting aside his rambling thoughts, Sam stepped up to Quorra's door, and knocked lightly, “Hey, Quorra?” He could hear voices on the other side, and music, something full of crashing brass and drums that suited neither program's tastes, and waited. The second time he knocked was more forceful, and by extension louder, before he started digging through his pockets for his spare key. He hardly ever used the thing, but he was pretty sure they couldn't hear him, so he let himself in, once he'd finally found it.

 

At first, he wasn't sure what to make of the scene before him.

 

Tron was wearing one of Sam's dress shirts – long-sleeved, dark gray, and unbuttoned –  what looked to be Sam's old tuxedo pants from the first ENCon, his own gloves for hiding the circuitry on his hands when he goes out in public, and no shoes. Quorra was in a full-skirted, sleeveless, red cocktail dress, with delicate heels to match; being an ISO, Quorra's suit on the Grid wasn't a manifestation of part of her purpose and code like Tron's was, so it didn't transfer to the User world like his did, leaving skin in its place instead – and that had been _awkward,_ the first time she came out; now she came out wearing whatever she went in with, which auto-shifted to her suit while she was there.

 

Their attire, while odd, wasn't what gave Sam pause, it was their position. Tron's hands were settled easily on Quorra's waist, holding her up gently, while her arms curled around his neck, and her legs stuck out to either side of his waist, then locked around him. Sam's chest clenched, and he turned to go, but not before looking at their faces, trying to find a reason...

 

… only to see them both staring at a laptop in confusion.

 

“Perhaps, if we change the angle by 15°?...” Tron proposed hesitantly, before glaring slightly at the YouTube video that was apparently paused on the screen, “Why did these Users not set up additional cameras so their motions could be properly triangulated? This method is inefficient.”

 

Quorra nodded, and uncurled one hand to move the playback backward a bit, “I think increasing our speed will also help.” Tron nodded to this, then set Quorra back down on her feet again; she stepped back a little, then took his outstretched hand, “Ready?”

 

Thoroughly confused now, Sam turned to silently shut the still-open door, while Tron nodded, then clicked 'play' with his free hand.

 

All at once, the brassy music from before exploded out into the air, and the two programs broke into a flurry of quick, light steps being chased by the fluttering fabric of shirttails and skirt. They were a graceful pair, enough so that Sam could almost believe they'd been doing this for years, not half a day; their biggest giveaway was their heads, which were trained fixedly at the laptop for instruction.

 

There was a change in the music, and Tron reeled Quorra back in from a spin, then settled his hands on her hips confidently; he waited only as long as it took her to lock her arms around his neck, before lifting her easily; Quorra sort of hopped into the lift, then swung almost like she were on a playground swing, her legs propelled together just inches away from his right hip, until she was almost sitting on his thigh.

 

He could practically see them both making a check mark on their dance routine list – because _that_ was what this was – before Tron was swinging Quorra around to settle at his left side, and they made another check mark. There was an almost palpable tension to the air as Tron swung Quorra out again, and this time she came back in at the middle, with one leg to either side of Tron; this must be the moment he'd walked in on before. He wondered what they'd had trouble with before.

 

He found out, when Tron straightened and quickly pushed Quorra outward; she used the momentum to swing her body backward, out and up, until she was more or less doing a handstand on Tron's shoulders. Tron smiled while Quorra whooped in delight, but as her skirt was rapidly falling victim to gravity now that she wasn't moving, she shifted and swung back downward, back into the split-leg position from before. They held the pose a moment, then Tron set Quorra back down on her feet and let go.

 

Quorra turned to stop the video – which had played on without them – and finally saw Sam.

 

“Sam!” Tron perked up at the exclamation as Quorra rushed over and gave Sam an excited hug. “Did you see? We just successfully completed the Sidecar aerial! … Though, the instructional material was the standard substandard quality of YouTube.” She frowned thoughtfully at this.

 

Sam chuckled softly, then gave her a brief squeeze and let go. He returned the smile Tron was giving him, then made a show of looking him over, and whistled. “What's with the formal wear?”

 

If Sam didn't know any better, he'd call the look Tron gave him in reply a _pout_. “It was the only combination of clothing that both met the requirements for dancing, and matched.” He shifted to hold a portion of the dark gray of the shirt next to the black pants, then sighed. “Relatively speaking, at least.”

 

“It looks good on you,” Sam smiled and walked over, sliding an arm around Tron's waist, just under the shirt fabric; Tron's circuits were extra warm, venting heat from the exertion that was dancing. It felt good on Sam's hands, still a little cold from the drive here. “Oh!” Thinking about Tron expending energy reminded Sam of the drinks in his pockets, so he grabbed one out and handed it to the program, who took it curiously. “I thought of some things that might hopefully work for your trip with Alan; a program cannot live by sports drinks alone, after all.”

 

Tron gave the bottle in his hand the stink eye, but eventually gave in and opened it. When nothing in the smell of it made him immediately nauseous, he took a sip...

 

… and nearly dropped the bottle to the floor while his mouth puckered tightly.

 

Quorra, not wanting to clean up a spill on her carpet, took the drink from Tron's hand deftly, and like the endlessly curious free spirit she was, took a sip of her own.

 

Having been forewarned by Tron's reaction, hers wasn't as severe – her face spasmed for a second, then she just started smacking her lips over and over – but still consistent enough that Sam sighed.

 

Apparently, strawberry equaled out to something very sour; once he had finally gotten himself under control again, Tron gave Sam an apologetic look. Sam shrugged the whole thing off for now; it wasn't Tron's fault that he and User food didn't get along, but it would probably be prudent to wait a while before trying another one.

 

One of these days, he was going to make a 'Tron vs. Food' matrix to keep track of everything, and maybe predict trends; he could start it during the next Group Three presentation, those always seemed to run ten times longer than they needed to.

 

Quorra seemed to be enjoying it at least, if her regular sips were any indication.

 

The paused laptop caught his eye again, and Sam's curiosity got the better of him, “So why were you guys dancing?”

 

“Quorra called this morning to ask if I would assist her in learning the art of swing dancing.” Tron explained, glanced at Quorra, then shrugged, “I had no priority tasks to complete, so I agreed. Neither of us were familiar with the subject, though, so we located instructional material.” Here, he shot the laptop a slight disapproving look, and in that moment Sam just knew that as soon as Tron was back on the Grid, and had access to the Internet, he was going to go to the system on Quorra's laptop and stir up some kind of fuss, as if their lack of finding acceptable – to them – training material was the byproduct of some willful or negligent act by programs unknown.

 

Deciding that a distraction was in order, Sam caught up one of Tron's hands, and began tugging his gloves off to reveal the circuits of his suit underneath; Tron completely stalled at the motion, staring at Sam's hands, captivated.

 

“I tried to ask _you_ to help me, Sam, but you absolutely refused; it was quite rude of you,” Quorra piped up breezily, willfully blind to her friends' conduct.

 

Sam slowed in confusion, then stopped altogether; when had he said anything about dancing to Quorra? The last thing she'd asked him for was...

 

Oh no.

 

“You- you asked me to teach you how to be a _swinger_!” Sam squawked, looking wide-eyed between Quorra and Tron.

 

He was treated to twin looks of blinking incomprehension.

 

He groaned, then scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

“You-” he pointed at Quorra, then at the laptop, “look it up. You-” he turned so he could point at Tron now, “please don't _ever_ look it up. And let's go home now.” Sam grabbed hold of Tron, momentarily overcome by a sort of possessive paranoia, and started for the door.

 

Hopelessly lost in the conversation by this point, Tron let himself be led – wearing one glove, shirt still untucked and unbuttoned – and waved goodbye to Quorra, who looked almost equally confused.

 

With laundry and old movies to look forward to, they headed for home.

 

After Tron pulled Sam's hand back up above his waistline.


End file.
